The Fountain
by JetNoir
Summary: On the road, Clarice seeks an ancient artifact and discovers an old friend.
1. Part One

**THE FOUNTAIN**

**By JetNoir**

Water shot into the air, almost a geyser, and fell back to earth, a shower of small rain. It was dusty here, dry. The ground was dead, and the inhabitants of the small town were as close to that state as you could get.

The water was the only thing they had left. A few hardy, wilted crops existed here and there: for they never grew. They couldn't.

Dust was getting in Clarice Starling's nose and eyes, and she wondered why she had bothered coming here in the first place. A long drive, to clear her head. Yet, here she was, with the dust filling it up again.

She had driven for hours and hours from Buenos Aires, and it saddened her to remember that she hadn't exactly left on the best of terms.

54 hours earlier

"This hardly a serene existence!"

"And I happen to disagree, Clarice!"

"Don't shout at me!"

"And what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"This is getting us nowhere!"

"Why are you telling me this? Stop," said Hannibal, his voice suddenly lowering, "please, dearest. Stop."

And so that is exactly what Clarice did. She stopped, effectively shut herself down. She didn't talk, or eat or two days - only drinking a little water. Hannibal was beside himself with despair. He may have been one of the greatest psychologists of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, but he couldn't diagnose what was wrong with her.

They had spent five years together, here in peace. 'Serene' would be the perfect word to describe what they shared; but for the last fortnight, Clarice had become disaffected, and withdrawn. For the first time, they had quarrelled - and the Cannibal was losing his patience. Not with Clarice, mind. With himself.

On the afternoon of the second day, Clarice had gone and packed a few brief things. While she was reaching for some toiletries, she noticed Hannibal watching her.

"What is it you want?" said Hannibal.

"Simple," whispered Clarice, "I need some time alone."

"Very well," said Hannibal, simply, "at least I know what might happen. Will you at least stay in contact."

"I'll do my best."

Clarice left that night, and drove north. In twelve hours, via various scenic routes, she arrived in Mexico. It was just past midnight.

There she found a cheap motel, which she booked a room for one night, and settled down. It was clean at least, no insects, and so on.

Curling up in the bed, she poured herself a glass of wine (she had purchased some at the shop), and settled down with the book she'd brought.

It was called _The Fountain._

1934, southern california

It was known as The Dustbowl. Every day, enormous sandstorms blotted out the sun. Nothing could grow here, even less than in the town, and all there was, as far as the eye could see, is barren wilderness.

Justin Crowe was an old man, and had lived here for far too long. He was tired, and bored with his life; existing in the dust. This was no life.

All he had left was his final task. The one that had been set when his father had died, a hundred years earlier. He hadn't been young then, and this was all he had left. It was what kept him alive.

The date is the 12th of April, and with no regret, Crowe broke into the floorboards of his small hut, and for the first time in a hundred years, the object saw light.

Setting off, Justin travelled many, many miles - walking steady and true.

And at last, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, Justin fell to his knees, and began to dig with his hands, shovelling the dirt with almost preternatural speed. Soon enough, it had piled up to either side of him, and when Justin deemed the hole big enough, he reverently placed the object into a wrapped piece of thick cloth, and buried it in the ground.

Standing up, in the hot, clear night sky, Justin Crowe, walked a few shaky steps, his age finally caught up to him. He smiled, wearily, and whispered: "It is done."

He fell to the ground never to rise again.

present day

Clarice paid, and left the motel before the sun had risen, and was once again on the road. The hood on her convertible was down, and the wind played with her hair, as she chomped on an apple.

Still heading north, she considered what she was doing. Did this fountain exist? Was this book pure nonsense? She had made a brief trip to Russia, a few years back, and picked it up in an antique bookshop. It had fascinated her since.

So when her serene existence had come to an end - and she couldn't bear to wait any longer, she decided to find out the truth.

A few hours after lunch, she pulled into the town. Apparently it had been here for centuries, and looking at some of the older inhabitants, Clarice didn't find that too hard to believe. Actually, she wondered if some of the inhabitants had been here longer.

She had wandered around slowly, until she reached what she had been searching for. The first marker. The first part of the trail.

The fountain exploded out of the ground, and she walked around it, stray droplets spurted on her. It was a refreshing change to the dust.

"Clarice Starling. Former Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. You have a debt to pay."

Clarice stopped moving, as the gun was placed to her head, and the safety clicked off.

"Hello, Ardelia," said Clarice.

**To Be Concluded**

**Note:** I'm worried that this is too similar to a previous story of mine called: A Hole In The Head, which has a similar structure and story. Hope nobody minds. I just love westerns, and wanted to write something simple and different, before I return to my Revenant stories, and Ardeur Et Neige, which will be coming soon (I hope). And this is the first thing I have written, since becoming a moderator - which I am thrilled about! I hope that you enjoyed this, part two will be along shortly, and please, please review.

**Disclaimer: **Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story, plus original characters to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


	2. Part Two

**THE FOUNTAIN, part two**

**By JetNoir**

1934, southern california

three months after the death of Justin Crowe

It is the middle of nowhere.

The hut lies far south of the Mojave Desert, but the inhabitants would never know that. It is swelteringly hot, and noise is coming from all around. A sandstorm is raging, and lightning is everywhere; the small particles of sand and grit rubbing against each other in millions of places.

Sand seeps between the window-frame, underneath the door, and swirls by the feet of the four men sitting around a small table.

"Where is The Fountain?"

"How should we know? Crowe disappeared, with his son, Justin, over a hundred and fifty years ago. Our ancestors tried to find him…we've tried to find him. Intelligence has placed him Southern California all this time. We've combed every inch."

"So intelligence has wasted a hundred years of our time?"

"No. He is here, he hasn't left. We have to accept that he could be dead."

"Well, then that's it. We'll never find The Fountain."

"Are we resigned to that fact."

There were four bitter yeses.

"So," said the last man, "we are herby dissolved."

--

present day

Ardelia kept the gun raised.

"Are you alone?" she asked.

"Doctor Lecter is not with me."

"That's not a full answer."

"Yes, I'm alone. And unarmed for that matter."

"Put your hands on your head."

"Excuse me?" said Clarice.

"You heard me, Starling. Slowly, put your hands on your head."

"Why are you doing this, Ardelia? I'm happy. Or at least I was until you arrested me. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for the past. You are a missing person, Clarice, a material witness in a brutal murder. And can I remind you, that anything you say to me, as a federal officer, is acceptable in court."

"So, what? You want to take me back to the FBI?"

"Precisely."

"What if I were to accept," said Clarice, "on one condition."

"That would depend on what that condition was."

"I came here looking for the past as well. There is meant to be a relic north of the border, in southern California. Help me to find it…and I'll come with you?"

"You want to take me on a treasure hunt?" asked Ardelia, incredulous, "Fine. If that's what it'll take, girl, fine. Where are we going."

"Come with me…and find out."

--

southern california

three days later

"Why the hell am I doing this? Just remind me."

"Because I asked you to," replied Clarice, "Now please stop whining."

"Whining? I ain't whining. I'm just sick of the dust. It gets stuck in-"

"Keep digging. This is where the book said it would be."

So the spades kept shovelling the dust and dirt into a large pile, going deeper and deeper. It had been over seventy years since anyone had last set foot here.

As the hours grew on, the sky began to darken. Clouds gathered on the horizon, and thunder softly rumbled in the distance. A wind began to blow, and the soft topsoil began to fly around the two figures who just kept on digging.

Clarice still wasn't exactly sure that they had come to the right place, but she had faith in herself, and the book.

_They had arrived as the sun rose over the horizon, mountains overshadowing the dusty plains. It's still as cold as Hel, but Clarice doesn't care. It feels good to be back with Ardelia, even though she is about to destroy Clarice's life._

_So as the sun rises, they eat a leisurely breakfast of pastries, make sure their lunch hamper is packed securely, and begin to dig._

The light had almost gone from the sky when Clarice saw the thick hemp-cloth, still mostly buried.

"Here you are," she murmured.

"What's that?" asked Ardelia.

"I believe, that I have found it. The fountain."

"Fountain?" Ardelia replied, "Looks a bit small to be a fountain. So what is it?"

Clarice carefully unrolled the cloth, and it slowly became smaller and smaller. What had once been a sort of square, became spherical.

It was a blue gemstone. A sapphire. Admittedly large, and beautiful to look at, but still…

"That's it?" said Clarice, "This is the fountain? Yea, Gods."

"You thought this would be the Ark of the Covenant or some such. You always did like Indiana Jones."

"Yeah," said Clarice, "but who can resist Harrison Ford?"

"Certainly not you, girl."

There was a terrible, uncomfortable silence, as the last beams of the sun dipped into darkness. Ardelia's foresight, however, had told her to switch on the car headlights, about a half-hour earlier.

So in this artificial light, Clarice and Ardelia stood next to the hole.

"Clarice," said Ardelia, "look. I've got to take you with me."

Clarice's face fell. She may have needed some space…but she didn't want her life with Hannibal to end. If taken to the FBI, she could never go back.

"What happens if I don't want to go?"

"You have to come back with me. One way or the other."

"Or what?" said Clarice, "You'll shoot me?"

Ardelia sighed, and shrugged: "If needs must." Wary of her former-friend, she reached to her holster, to take out her gun.

"Don't bother," said Clarice. Ardelia's hand hit thin air. Clarice had got the gun.

"Clarice…don't do anything stupid."

"Like what? Shooting you? I love you, Ardelia. You were my sister. But when it comes down to it, I love Hannibal more."

"What?"

"I love him, Ardelia. I was just as responsible for Krendler's murder. He tasted quite nice actually."

Ardelia just didn't know how to respond.

"So," continued Clarice, "Ardelia. I know that you'll keep coming after me. I'm so sorry, girl."

Her hand quivering, she raised the gun, and pointed it at Ardelia's head. Closing her eyes, so she wouldn't see the awful deed, she pulled the trigger.

A single gunshot blazed into the night, and with her eyes still closed, Clarice heard Ardelia fall into the hole they had just dug.

Tears running down her face, and with her eyes still closed, Clarice threw the gun into the grave, and turned towards the car. She heard dust already beginning to cover Ardelia's body. Opening her eyes, to the night and stars around her, she got into the car, wiped the tears from her face, and drove away.

Special Agent Mapp's body was never found.

**fini**

**Note: **I must admit to having tremendous fun writing this. It's nice to write something so different for a change. Now, this is the end of the story, but I'm thinking about writing a one-shot sequel, as this ending is rather sudden. So, please let me know, one way or the other. Finally, I'd like to thank doctor katy, eskimofantastic, forensicgirl20, Nocturne, A. A. Aaron, Mara-Lethe, and notmycupoftea, for your lovely reviews of part one. As always, I hope you enjoyed it, and please review.

**Disclaimer: **Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story, plus original characters to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page (that includes links) without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


End file.
